


Operation Robin

by Amurtinyburr12



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Coming of Age, Dick Grayson is Robin, Rick and Morty inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2018-11-11 08:48:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11144997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amurtinyburr12/pseuds/Amurtinyburr12
Summary: Dick believes he can run a safer, simpler and funner mission than Bruce. When Bruce gives him the opportunity, can he follow through?A run in with the world famous mercenary Slade Wilson may prove Dick wrong.





	1. Bruce's Deal

**Author's Note:**

> This work was heavily inspired by Rick and Morty (season 1 Episode 5).
> 
> Also, I should mention that I have tagged this work in the Rape/Non Con section for a reason. There will be a short section, non-graphic of course, where it is hinted but not followed through with. If this triggers anyone I suggest skipping or not reading.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick is tired of the way Bruce is handling the operation so the two of them strike a deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically just an introduction.

"Robin, pay attention," Bruce's voice floated through the static of the comm link in Dick's ear.

Dick snapped back to reality, and pressed his finger to the button on the communications device. "I was paying attention," He lied unconvincingly. Dick looked down at the city from the gargoyle he was currently perched on then back to the skyscraper across the street he was meant to be surveying.

"Oh really?" Bruce returned dryly. "What did I just say then?"

Dick fumbled with the choice of admitting he had zoned out or running with his lie. He went with the former. "Fine," He sighed. "Sorry. What did you say?"

"I want you to get a closer look at what's going on," Bruce's voice tightened. " _Don't_ get caught- this is purely an observe and report mission. I don't want to risk the chance of scaring Rogers away after the weeks we've put into tracking him."

Dick nodded, though Bruce couldn't see him. He was itching to do something- anything, even if it was just getting a little bit closer. All of this sitting around was really getting under his skin. Robins weren't meant to sit still. They were meant to fly. "Copy that, B." 

He shot the cord of his grappling hook out to a balcony next to the skyscraper and waited until he heard the familiar "chink" of the cord connecting and latching itself firmly to the railing. Dick inhaled a deep breath and backed up off the gargoyle onto a small ledge. He took a running start before flinging himself from the top of the building and sailing through the air. He neatly tucked his body in and came to a rolling stop on top of the balcony. The vigilante glided easily back to his feet, grinning as he felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

From there, he used the folds of his cape to easily blend with the shadows the night provided and swiftly removed his binoculars from his utility belt so he could peer into Rogers' office.

What he saw, however, completely erased the smile from his face. Quickly he reconnected his link with Bruce. "B, we have a problem. Rogers has someone in there with him. A hostage by the looks of it."

The reply was immediate. "Robin, you will not engage. Do you understand?"

Dick let the comm link fall silent for a few seconds as he lifted the binoculars to his eyes once again. Rogers was holding an object in his hands- obviously a weapon by the way his hostage, a younger male, was reacting. Rogers appeared to be threatening him but the younger man kept shaking his head. He read the body language of the criminal, the way he was standing and the telltale way his fingers were twitching.

The boys hands curled into fists at his sides and he reactivated the link. "Batman, it looks like Rogers may be about to seriously injure his hostage. I have to do something." He picked up his grappling hook and prepared to fire it at the window just above the office the two people were in.

"Robin!" Bruce barked through the comm link, sounding increasingly angry. "You will come back to the cave  _now._  I will not have you compromise this mission. That's an order."

Dick watched the man cowering before Rogers, heart growing heavy. "B, this man is in trouble."

"Get back to the cave." With that, Bruce cut the line, leaving Dick with an ear full of static.

* * *

 The second he pulled his motorbike into the cave he was faced with the full heat of the world famous Batglare. Bruce stood in front of him, fully in costume, staring down at him through the lenses of his cowl. 

"Bruce, that man might be dead." Dick cut straight to the point, his tone reflecting his own anger. "We swore that we would protect the citizens of Gotham as long as we could and do everything in our power. Saving that man just now? That was within my power. That's on both of us."

Bruce sighed and removed his cowl so he could meet his wards eyes. "I understand that, Dick. I do. But sometimes a mission isn't cut and dry like that. Life is chaos- we can't control every variable. Tonight was purely an intel mission. You know how hard we've both worked to take down that low-life and his illegal arms deals. If we move in too early or tip him off of our presence then he'll be gone the next morning without any trace."

Dick let his eyes fall to his shoes, the anger in them slowly flickering to nothing. "I just wish I could have helped that man. I know we have to be careful but...well sometimes morals should dictate our next move not the goal of the mission that may not be achieved." Without missing a beat, he added, "I also think recent missions have been boring. We've barely done anything. It feels like we aren't living up to our potential."

Bruce began to walk over to the Bat computer and his son followed in his footsteps. "Recent missions have been boring," He repeated. "And how would you expect me to fix this? Crime fighting isn't supposed to be fun. Gotham isn't a playground for you to run around on." The Bat sat down heavily in the chair in front of the computers and pulled up the statistics for the last handful of missions. "From what I can tell Dick, you've been getting sloppy. Sluggish, tired and out of it. Is the reason because you've been bored?"

Dick looked at the overwhelming numbers on the screen and realized that his performance had dropped dramatically. He'd known that he wasn't interested in the missions assigned to him but hadn't realized they'd affected his statistics this much. "I'm sorry Bruce," He offered, feeling a wave of guilt rush over him. "You're right though. I'm a little disinterested and I don't try to be but these missions have been nothing but collecting intel. I haven't gotten to do anything but observe and report. It's tiring and feels pointless."

"Well, you'd better get used to it." Bruce retorted. "I can't have slackers on my team. Get your head in the game or get out."

Instantly, the fire behind Dick's eyes reignited and he gritted his teeth. "You know what? If I were running the operation we'd _already have Rogers_ behind bars and it would be done in a _non-boring way._ "

"Oh really," Bruce let out a sound equivalent to a snort. "That's something I'd love to see. How quickly do you think you could do it?"

Dick narrowed his eyes. "Well so far it's taken you two and a half weeks. I figure I could do it in two and a half  _days_ without anyone getting hurt." 

Bruce nodded, an almost amused look gracing his features. "Alright then. I'll let you take the reigns- not on this mission. You can have Davis, a nearly identical situation."

"The one dealing with child prostitutes?" The boy tilted his head slightly, surprised Bruce would give him such an important case.

"The one and the same," Bruce confirmed. "I'll let you run the operation. But if anything goes wrong over the next few days then we go back to my method with Rogers and you have to follow my orders without question."

"Deal," Dick shot back. "But if my method works then you have to let me co-run every third mission."

"Every tenth," Bruce negotiated.

"Fine." Dick grinned. "We're going to get Davis, shut down his operation  _and_ it's going to be the funnest mission you've ever been on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to get crazy pretty fast from here on out. I'm going to try to finish this entire story within this week so please make sure to stay updated.
> 
> Also: reviews are like hugs! I'd love to know if anyone is excited to see where this story is going.


	2. Master of Operations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two and a half days. Is it enough time for Robin to find Davis' operation and shut it down? Or is he in way over his head?

Dick stood up from the bat-cave floor and wiped his hands on the black leggings of his uniform while coughing mildly from clouds of chalk dust. Bruce sat rigidly on a fold-able chair next to him, scanning the "blue-prints" in front of him with an unimpressed look on his face. He made quite a sight, the great Batman still in uniform, hunched over on a tiny chair grimly watching Robin draw on the ground.

"You expect me to take this seriously?" He asked without a trace of humor.

Dick tilted his head to examine the meticulously drawn blue-prints and plans on the floor, all done in several arrays of colorful chalk before facing his mentor. "As a matter of fact, I do. Tell me that wasn't fun."

Bruce cleared his throat. "Alright. That wasn't fun."

Dick snatched up the scattered pieces of chalk and shoved them into the plastic bucket they'd come in. "Fine, Bruce. Rag on my operation all you want but you'll see when I get results faster than you ever did."

They both glanced toward the giant wooden clock, hanging directly over their heads from a stone ledge.

"You've wasted thirty minutes of your allotted time. Hope coloring like a toddler was worth it," The Bat grunted.

Robin chose to ignore him. Instead he stalked over to the computer and quickly scanned through the Davis files for the third time that hour. "This is interesting. B, how many times have you looked at these case files?"

Bruce stepped closer to the console and peered over Dick's shoulder. "Perhaps once or twice. I've been more worried about the possibility of nuclear weapons in Gotham."

"Okay, sure. But I noticed something you didn't." Dick couldn't help but smile. He gestured with one armored gauntlet to a few lines in the middle of the file. "It says here that the weapons these human traffickers use are almost all anoumbite based. There's only once place in Gotham that makes those."

* * *

"Lucky find," Batman spoke neutrally, voice low so as not to be heard by the passing guards below. "Too bad we've wasted an entire day now waiting for it to get dark."

"I don't need it." 

Robin and his sidekick for the moment, Batman, were perched on the roof of the Gencore Warehouse taking in the scene below them. Guards and other workers were busy at work hauling a mountain of brown crates into trucks and never noticed the two caped figures balanced only a few feet above them.

"And don't feel bad, Bats. I'm sure you would have noticed the anoumbite element in another two weeks," Dick teased good naturedly. 

Bruce didn't bother arguing. Instead he shifted his cape, "So what's the plan?"

Robin focused back on the guards below them, removed a small canister from his utility belt and easily uncapped the lid. "Controlled gas to take these guards out of the equation." The younger vigilante tossed it soundlessly into the shadows and white smoke began to fill the air. Robin and Batman efficiently secured gas masks to their faces and watched the scene rapidly unfolding beneath them. Coughing heavily, guards dropped boxes that they'd been holding and began to collapse to the ground, out cold. Once they had been subdued, the pair unfastened their gas masks and dropped silently down to the earth.

"Now what, boss?" Batman observed the latest obstacle set before them. A large grey metal door loomed over their heads looking just as welcoming as a school on a Saturday.

"We're going to go in and take a look at their imports and exports and find out which of them is Davis." Dick answered simply. The door had an electronic combination lock but the Boy Wonder easily dismantled its security within a matter of seconds. "I bet they keep records of locations. Purely intel and stealth. No fighting."

If there was one thing true in the universe it was that Batman and Robin blended with the darkness as if they were made up of shadows themselves. There were very few who could detect the Dynamic Duo if they didn't want to be. Batman kept to the shadows and crouched there as he waited for guards to pass while Robin eagerly zipped in and out between the shadows.

"This is fun," He mouthed to his partner.

As if to prove it, he spun, twisted and sprinted down long hallways, passing electrical boxes, empty rooms and large crates of anoumbite weapons while Bruce flanked out in the opposite direction.

The boy eventually found his way to a small room filled with cabinets, files and computers. A single guard sat staring blankly at the screensaver of a computer screen, very clearly zoned out. The vigilante quietly flipped himself on to the top of a wooden cabinet and from there used the height advantage to leap forward onto the mans shoulders and effortlessly pin his throat with his powerful thighs. Dick mentally counted and right at six seconds the guards writhing ceased and he slumped limply in the boy's grasp. He dismantled, checked for a pulse then connected his earpiece to Bruce's radio signal.

"Found the room. West wing."

"Copy."

Going through the files was the real challenge. Robin had no clue when another guard would show up to replace the former and because of this he knew he needed to work quickly. Muttering under his breath he pulled the unconscious guard off the computer chair, plopped down and set to work hacking into the system.

Bruce appeared as he was working and began picking open the file cabinets. Inside the first drawer were several contracts, notebook papers and broken pencils. Nothing of importance. 

"Got it," Robin spoke up after a minute of tense silence. He briskly reached into his utility belt and withdrew a flash drive which he plugged into the side of the console. "Downloading contents."

Batman straightened up from picking drawer #4 and tilted his head toward the doorway. "Quiet," He whispered. "Footsteps."

The Caped Crusader wasn't wrong- the tell tale thumps of boots against cement could be heard echoing throughout the corridor. And by the sounds of it, they were growing closer.

"I can't download it any faster," Robin hissed to his mentor, eyeing the loading bar almost pleadingly. 

"I'll take care of it," Bruce promised, already halfway to the doorway. He turned to look back at his ward, "Just admit that this isn't any funner or better than my missions first."

"B, really? Right now?" Dick narrowed his eyes.

"Fine," Bruce cleared his throat. "You did say this was supposed to be a purely informational mission. Looks like it isn't quite as simple as you thought."

Dick snorted something unintelligible, still warily watching the loading bar. Running a hand through his hair in frustration he abandoned the computer and darted out past Batman into the hallway. From his sleeve he withdrew a birdarang, slammed open the electricity box and neatly sliced through the cords relevant to the lights. Instantly, the entire warehouse was plunged into darkness.

Confused shouting could be heard just around the corner along with several curses.

"Simple enough for you, Bats?" Dick asked whilst activating the night vision in his masks' lenses. He didn't wait for an answer and instead disappeared past his mentor back into the room to watch over the flash drive.

A minute later, the loading bar reached 100%. Robin snatched it from the computer and jammed it safely into his pouch. "Let's go."

* * *

"That was such a kick-ass mission and you know it," Dick drawled over his shoulder as he lazily clicked through the contents of the flash-drive on the Bat computer.

Bruce stood somewhere to his left cleaning the armor of his suit. "If by kick-ass you mean 'could have been accomplished by simply hacking into their computer from here' then yeah. Of course it was."

"Oh my God," Dick shifted in his chair to look at his adoptive father. "How many times have I had to follow you into some nonsensical bullcrap? I always roll with the punches, Bruce. Why can't you? Besides, you know the second we even tried to get into that mainframe it would have sent a virus into our systems."

"Unless you wrote a new program to counter that virus and send it back to them thusly getting the information we want while also destroying whatever else they have." Bruce wiped at a particularly grimy part of his gauntlets. "But hey," He shrugged nonchalantly. "It isn't my mission. You're in charge."

Dick turned back around in his chair, refusing to feel slighted. "I don't care. The way that we did it was the fun option."

Bruce sighed deeply. "As much as I enjoy seeing you gaining expertise leading missions you need to keep the goal of the mission in sight."

Dick returned to clicking at the contents of the files he'd stolen. "I know...I want to put Davis away just as much as anyone else." He looked at the time in the bottom left corner of the screen. "In a few hours from this time tomorrow we'll have him behind bars  _and_ it'll all be done Robin-style."

"That's a big promise," Bruce noted, now scrubbing at his cowl.

The boy wasn't listening. Something had caught his eye as he scrolled through the file's contents. "I know exactly which base is Davis' biggest. We're going to hit it and free all the children."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is where the Rape/Non-con elements come in. I'm not entirely sure how graphically I'm going to write it. It's definitely a skippable chapter for those who are uncomfortable. I'll leave notes at the bottom of it for those of you who choose not to read it so you're caught up.
> 
> Also: please remember to comment/bookmark. It really helps:)


	3. Give In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin isn't quite as prepared as he likes to think. Deathstroke makes that very obvious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight, dudes. Skip this chapter if Rape/Non-con elements scare you. I'll leave a note at the bottom to catch you up. (Seriously, it's not even that bad though.)

Dick groaned. A large red bump on his forehead throbbed madly, pulsing and causing a splitting headache to reverberate through his skull. He forced himself to keep his eyes open, warily watching the shadows around him. At the same time, the boy tried to climb back to his feet but his ankle was in a bad way and the pain that shot through it upon standing was immense. A different type of agony radiated from his shoulder, where the villain had managed to lodge a large knife into the Boy Wonder's shoulder. Removing it might contribute to blood loss so Dick had left it.

"Give up, Robin," The familiar voice purred from somewhere obscure.

Dick pushed himself up into a crouch and tried to pinpoint where his enemy was.

"You cannot defeat me. Your mentor might have more of a chance but he's not here, is he?" There's a momentary pause, a silence that chills the young vigilante to the bone. Everything about this situation screams danger but he's not sure what to do. "If he's not here then...perhaps you and I can have some fun."

Dick still has enough innocence and inexperience to be confused by this statement. Instead of showing his fear however, he shot to his feet and spit back. Something Robin's do best. "As if this wasn't fun enough, _Deathstroke_. The only thing that would make this more of a dream come true was if there were balloons and cake."

There is no warning. Dick, for all his training by the Batman is completely unprepared to feel the mercenary suddenly breathing down his neck, the closeness of the other man's body pressed flat against his back and the way he whispers into his ear. "That's not what I meant, little bird. If you're so very inclined to investigate child prostitution...let me help you."

The words sink in heavily, heading straight for Dick's stomach as he urges himself to remain calm and not throw up. Oh God. Oh God. Where is Bruce? Dick knows, rationally, that Bruce has his own enemies to deal with right now. There's now way to contact him now- not after Deathstroke took out all communication lines.

As if he's well aware of what is going on through the boy's mind, Deathstroke chuckles quietly. "You're wondering who's going to save you? I'm afraid we're going to have plenty of time together before Batman gets here." The famous mercenary lightly traces Dick's thighs through his uniform leggings. "In the meantime..."

Dick feels frozen. Trapped in a singular moment of time that threatens to tear his reality apart. He's no stranger to sex- nor what children in prostitution are forced to do. But the idea that it would ever happen to him had never even occurred.

"Wait," He hears himself say. "Don't do this. You're a mercenary. You're only meant to do what you're hired for." He sounds braver than he feels.

Deathstroke relinquished another sinister chuckle, this one darker and less genuine. "Who's to say I'm not getting paid, kid? I'm no pedophile but I'll make exceptions. Especially," He came closer so that his breath could be felt in Robin's ear. "When it comes to pretty little things like you."

The mercenary slammed his knee into the small of Dick's back and the boy crumpled forward, only to be caught and have his arms pinned behind his back by one of Slade's large hands. Dick blinked rapidly, still shocked but trying to quickly run through his mental database on the villain.

He jolted at the feeling of Slade's other hand coming up to his face and tracing his jawline. Dick had the impulse to try to bite the older man, but thought better of it and settled instead for wrenching his head away. The quick movement caused his vision to blur and for a moment it felt like his head was swimming.

"Stop resisting. Give in to me," Deathstroke murmured, almost gently. "You know you want it." He grabbed a fistful of Dick's hair and pushed him to his knees. The boy tried his best not to sink to the floor but the knife still lodged in his shoulder from earlier, the disorientation from his head wound and the fatigue from little sleep made him nearly completely compliant. 

"You're such a pretty little thing," Slade repeated, fingers reaching up to the back of Dick's neck to tease the hair there.

"Don't touch me," Dick snarled, turning his head to glare at the man. "You'll go to prison for this."

Slade ignored the boy's attempts at threats and instead ghosted his hand over the vigilante's small chest. The mercenary noted that he was surprisingly fit for someone still so young. "Get out of the uniform, Robin."

Dick struggled to remain conscious from the pounding of his head and the burning sensation in his shoulder. He barely registered Slade's words.

Slade wanted him to take his clothes off.

This was not part of Robin's plan. In fact- Dick hadn't planned for Slade Wilson to be here at Davis' base at all. 

No. The children were supposed to be in THIS warehouse, according to the blueprints and files. Not Deathstroke.

God. He'd thought he was so prepared. So ready for anything. He wanted to prove to Bruce that he could run an efficient mission. 

But Bruce was right. You couldn't control every variable nor always be prepared for every situation. He was a failure.

"Listen to me boy," Deathstroke gritted out, growing impatient with Robin's resistance. "I gave you an order. Take off your uniform."

Dick nearly sighed in relief as the mercenary released his arms from the tight pin they'd been forced into. He reached down with trembling hands to his utility belt, watching Slade's black and orange mask as he did so. The boy made it out to be as if he were going to unbuckle the belt but at the last second switched directions, reached into a pouch and immediately threw down a smoke grenade. Instantly, the warehouse was plunged into ashy white and it became increasingly harder to see.

Dick had no plan. He'd abandoned his plans.

He ran, ran for where he knew the exit was and kept running, not daring to look back to see if the mercenary was following. He heard the roar of anger from behind him, a growling curse but he didn't stop.

God, he didn't stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, nothing really happened. It just got very close. Deathstroke cornered Robin and tried to force things to happen in a very creepy manner. Luckily, Robin escaped but how will the Dynamic Duo deal with the aftermath?
> 
> Next chapter is probably going to be a little bit from now if I don't write it tomorrow :/ Going camping and there's no WiFi.


	4. Let's Go Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is finally accepting that the mission is going well. Dick is not. Is the Boy Wonder a failure?

Dick's barely keeping it together. Perhaps he isn't- perhaps this is all a front that he's putting on for himself.

Everything is so hazy. Millions of out of focus dots swim randomly around his blurred vision. He hopes he doesn't have a concussion.

He slams straight into Bruce's chest the second he rounds the third corridor and nearly face plants. Thankfully, he's caught by Batman's strong arms. His ankle screams at him for the weight he's placed on it but Dick can barely register it above the noise in his head.

The Bat has just finished taking out a group of criminals, judging by the unconscious bodies scattered across the floor.

"Woah, slow down," Bruce steadies him by the shoulders. He scans the area for a moment before giving a slight shrug. "I'll admit, Robin. This mission has been efficient. I may have been wrong to judge your methods so quickly..." There's a long pause as Bruce very obviously studies his ward, words dying on his lips.

The man kneels down fractionally to get a better look at the knife in Robin's shoulder, frowning as he does so. He clinically tugs on the cloth around it but stops the moment the action earns a sharp gasp. "We're going to have to look at that back at the cave. As far as I can tell it hasn't punctured anything vital but the blood loss could be a problem if we aren't quick about it. What happened?"

Dick lifts his head to meet his mentors mask, trying not to give away how emotionally compromised he is. The task is made slightly easier because his own mask covers his eyes. "Let's just go home, okay? I'm calling it. The mission is over. You win."

Bruce sounds concerned. "Did you find the children and free them?"

Dick moves an arm to rub the back of his neck. He can still  _feel_ Slade's breath lingering, ghosting over the hairs there and embedding itself into his pores. It's all he can do to repress a shudder. He has to. He's a Bat. "I just want to go back to the cave. It was stupid to come here so early. I need more time to plan." From the corner of Robin's eye he see's a flash of orange dart across the end of the hallway. Real or not real, his words catch in his mouth for a second and he grabs Bruce's hand, abandoning trying to hide the hoarseness of his voice. " _Please_."

The younger vigilante doesn't see it. He's got no way to see the way Bruce's eyes narrow, the slight shift in his body stance as he minimally tilts his neck to look down the corridor.

Dick is babbling now, but he doesn't care. "I get it, missions aren't cut and dry. It's chaos and I can't control it. I'll do it the way you want. My promise was too big to keep and I failed.  _Please, I just want to go home_."

Bruce doesn't let go of his son's hand. Rather he tightens his hold on it, perhaps subconsciously. "Okay, Robin." He nods his assent, keeping his eyes fixed on the hallway. "Let's go home."

* * *

Robin, stripped of the top half of his uniform sits stiffly atop the metal gurney while Bruce, still dressed in his entire Bat gear minus the cowl busies himself with his wards injuries.

"If you don't want to tell me what happened, that's okay." Bruce finally breaks the silence. "However, it would help immensely to know a few details so I can properly tend to your wounds."

Dick takes a shaky breath, trying to calm his nerves enough to get a half way decent sentence out. "I was taken by surprise. Attacked from behind and hit over the head with what was presumably the flat end of a blade." He glances down at his feet which are hanging over the edge of the medical table. "When I went down, my ankle was grabbed and twisted."

Bruce looks angry for a moment before his face is schooled back into neutrality. Dick notices the flash of emotion and bites his lip, afraid that the anger is directed at him.

"And the stab wound?" The Batman prompts, almost gently.

Dick is too much in pain and too overwhelmed with guilt to pick up on Bruce's tenderness. "Oh," He has to think hard. "That happened sometime later. I think there may have been something in the air to make me more compliant...my reflexes weren't as good as they should have been."

"Hmm," Bruce hums, crouching down to get a better look at Dick's bruised forehead. "I'm not seeing an immediate trace of drugs. I won't rule that out but it's more likely you're concussed."

No. The boy's hands minimally clench into fists at his sides. He had to have been drugged. He couldn't have let that happen. Being drugged was the only explanation for his weakness.

"I find it surprising that any amateur thugs could get the drop on you. Not that it can't happen- just highly unheard of." Bruce continues to muse, dabbing a little bit of cream into the heat of Dick's aching head.

He isn't sure how to reply to that. The younger vigilante doesn't know how much his mentor knows but he'd like for it to be as little as possible. He just _can't_ know about Robin's failure. Dick's failure.

What sort of hero would he be if he can't even protect himself?

"I...they were more skilled than we'd originally anticipated." Dick stammers lamely.

Bruce steps back from Dick, surveying his handiwork of gauze pressed into the boy's shoulder, ankle and head. "So, the children were not in the location that the files led us to believe."

Dick barely contains the sigh of relief that Bruce seems to have moved to a different topic. "It seems they were never in that sector. I found no traces of people ever living there. It was probably a mistake."

The Boy Wonder doesn't say what he's really thinking. What he  _knows._ But of course, Bruce is already three steps ahead.

"Unlikely. It must have been a trap."

_Must have been a trap._

Dick tries to repress the feeling of Slade's abdomen pressed flat against his back, the possessiveness in his body language. Instead of giving away any of that Dick forces himself to release a slight chuckle. "A trap? I don't think so."

Bruce studies him, albeit a little warily. There's a long pause in which neither of them say anything.

Finally, "I don't want to pressure you into telling me anything you aren't comfortable with." Bruce rubs one eye tiredly. "I just want you to feel safe. If you're...if you're protecting anyone or you're scared... just know you can come to me."

The last thing Robin feels right now is safe. But he can't say that. He half considers telling Bruce everything. But he can't. Bruce would have never allowed that to happen to him. He can't let Bruce down. What would everyone say if they knew that Robin, the Boy Wonder, had been vulnerable and helpless?

"Nothing happened, B." Dick mumbles into his chest, keeping his head down so he won't have to look the older man in the eye. "I messed up on this mission." He shifts his gaze over to the Batcave clock. "Looks like my time is up. Guess you're gonna have to take point on this case."

Bruce sighs deeply, shaking his head a little. "No. I didn't tell you about the option of hacking into Gencore. Instead you wasted a day to break in at night. We're partners- you don't hold out on me and I shouldn't have withheld information from you. That means you've still got a day left."

Dick kept his gaze on the floor. "I don't know if I want to, Bruce."

"Yes you do," The Batman smiled. "This is the funnest, most non-boring operation I've ever been on. You've got a full 24 hours to help free those children from prostitution. You're injuries shouldn't hold you back too much so long as we have a good drawn out plan."

"M'sorry but I failed. I can't make any plans." The boy eases himself down to the floor, gritting his teeth lightly as his injured foot makes contact with the floor. "Those children need Batman. At least..." Dick bites his quivering lip. "At least Batman didn't screw up."

A hand on the boy's shoulder stops him from heading toward the exit. "I know you can do it because of who you are. You don't need to be Batman- Batman makes mistakes. Bruce makes mistakes. But you? You're my son, you're the _first ever_ child superhero and you're the last of the surviving Flying Graysons. You've got your own legacy to leave behind. Stepping out of my shadow," Bruce swallows hard. "Well...I have to admit I wasn't ready for you to start running operations. It made me think of the future. A future where you're off building your own teams, having your own cases and missions. A future where you won't need me anymore."

Dick looks up at his mentor, a mixture of shock and compassion on his face. "B..." He takes a step back toward the man. "I'll never not need you. Maybe it's true that one day I'll spread my wings. But you'll always be my teacher. You'll always be my father." He stretches his arms around Bruce's waist, and tentatively snuggles his head against the man's chest. Bruce returns the hug albeit his features remained wistful and saddened.

"Alright, motivational speech is done." Bruce gives Dick's head a light scratch and pretends to ignore the tension in his ward's eyes at the motion. "What's the plan, boss?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone hasn't seen Rick and Morty Season 1 Episode 5 (Meseeks and Destroy) I highly recommend it. The only reason I wrote this is BECAUSE of that episode. It's that good.


	5. Broken Toys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Superheroes are supposed to be able to do anything because they're fearless. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the infrequent updates. I'll explain in the notes at the end. This is probably the last chapter of this story. I don't see any reason to contaminate this with extra words. ALSO, this one is extra long (for me anyway) so I hope that's a plus for you.
> 
> Warning: Gross pedophilia stuff, I guess. Nothing too bad.

He didn't want to separate from Bruce, but he didn't want to admit that either. Dick had the irrational urge to cling to the Dark Knight's cape like a vulnerable three year-old but rationally he knew that he couldn't have his mentor with him everywhere he went.

He has to force down the knot of self-loathing building in his stomach. God, what sort of pathetic hero can't walk down an alley by himself? How can he ever hope to leave the nest one day if he can't even stroll through downtown Gotham without feeling the urge to bolt? _It's just...different down here,_  he tells himself. _Usually you're on the rooftops. That's the only reason this feels wrong._

He folds himself to be as small as possible (it's not hard) as he approaches three bulky men standing further in the darker corners of the alleyway. Based on previously gathered intel they are most definitely child traffickers. Dick lacks proper warm clothing for a night as chilly as this and he can't help but pull the tattered jacket around his frame as a gust of icy wind whooshes past him. The asphalt feels harsh on his bare feet.

"Excuse me," Dick interrupts the men's conversation, voice coming out a little more wary than he'd hoped. He continues on anyway, this time attempting to lose the slight tremor. "I'm lost. Can you help me?"

 _"Good,"_  the sound of Bruce's voice through the comm link in his ear relaxes Dick a little and slowly, the built up tension between his shoulders begins to release.

The tallest one, a brute of a man with a hulking broad shouldered figure, muddy brown eyes and sandy unkempt hair peers unkindly down at him. "Little kiddie is lost, huh? Wandered too far from mommy and daddy?"

The thin man to his right snorts, an ugly sight on an already unattractive face. "Can it Bert. Sure, we'll help you. What's your name?"

The third man, a handsome figure, stands imposingly to the left of the tall man, Bert, but makes no attempt to move or say anything though it's clear his friends are waiting for him to pitch in. He merely studies Dick; an unreadable expression in his eyes. There's something strangely intelligent in them that makes Dick immediately note that he shouldn't underestimate this criminal. He's clearly smarter than his buddies.

"I'm lost," Dick repeats slowly, trying to recall what Bruce and he decided his alias was called. Normally, his memory is impeccable...forgetting basic information like this is one slip up away from getting himself killed. A stupid and unforgivable mistake. "I'm Jackson."

The third man's eyes narrow and he signals for his partners to come closer to him. The three of the men converse in hushed tones before they turn back around.

Bert chuckles audibly then faces toward Dick so he can take a heavy step forward. One of his arms comes up and it takes Dick half a moment to realize that he's reaching for him and while every instinct inside him screams to  _run!_ he forces himself still. The boy does his best not to flinch when a meaty hand brushes a strand of hair from his forehead in a disconcerting parody of what he supposes is meant to be a comforting motion. "Don't worry, _Jackson_. We'll get you where you need to be."

Something about the way he says Jackson is unnerving. Apparently Bruce realizes this too because he cuts in over the link, " _I don't trust these men. Something isn't right_."

Dick wants to reply, "Wonder why, B. Maybe it's because they're traffickers." But, for obvious reasons, he's preoccupied and can't actually voice his own agreement.

Bert moves around Dick so that Dick has to turn with him just to keep him in his line of vision. A rookie move, sure. But "Jackson" isn't supposed to be smart. He needs to be captured and Dick is very aware that his wish is about to be fulfilled.

"Running away maybe," The man mutters under his breath, eyes obviously tracing Dick's form through the ill fitting jacket. "Alright. Elmer, go ahead."

Dick had sensed movement behind him and could have easily dodged the choke hold that wrapped itself around his exposed neck but reminded himself to still. Dick had thought perhaps his soon-to-be kidnappers would employ chloroform rather than brute force but it actually makes more sense to knock someone out this way for this type of situation. Chloroform takes at least five minutes to render anyone unconscious- time that these criminals surely don't have lest they be discovered. Of course, Dick's tolerance to choke holds is fairly high due to Bruce's rigorous training. However, even he can't withstand it for more than a few seconds, especially as the pressure increases around his throat and black spots begin to dance in his vision.

He struggles a little, just to give the implication that Jackson is trying to fight back but not enough to actually slip Elmer's grip. Breathing is starting to get difficult and just before as his brain shuts down due to lack of oxygen he prays that the small tracker on his person isn't discovered while he's out.

The last thing he hears is Bert speaking. "You better be right about this, Jones."

* * *

There's scuffling around him, that Dick is acutely aware of. Even a few noises that sound suspiciously like someone is crying. He groggily comes awake, the memory of asphyxiation still fresh in his mind. He can almost feel the ghost of strong unrelenting arms wrapping themselves around his neck. He doesn't move or change the rate of his breathing. No reason to give any indication that he's awake. Dick keeps his eyes closed, but based on the sensation of a scratchy cloth tied around his head it hardly matters. He's blindfolded. Perhaps a normal kid would panic, but Dick had guessed this would happen. He's sitting, propped up against something cold and solid. Ridges press into his back, not hard enough to be painful but still uncomfortable. On either side of him and even at his feet, he can feel the outlines of other people, children he'd have to guess. They're motionless. 

For a half second, Dick is afraid the other kids are dead. But then he remembers that when he arrived here he was unconscious. Of course he'd wake up before some of the other children, depending on when they arrived here. Wherever here is. Bruce always trained him to rely on senses other than sight and it pays off in situations like these. He picks out the sound of work boots crunching against gravel, though it sounds different than it would be if they were right next to him. Dick thinks he can hear some voices holding a conversation but it's difficult to tell.

Dick's wrists are cramped and throbbing. It doesn't take Brainiac to note that his hands have been tightly bound behind in front of him with a zip tie. There's no telling how long he's been here but it can't have been too long. Dick is fairly quick at recovering from being knocked out and Bruce would have burst in here, Batmobile fully equipped, if it had been longer than 8 hours.

_"It's fine, B. I'll be okay," Dick's voice reveals none of the fears he's so desperate to hide. He's been trained by Batman, of course. He has half a mind to tell his mentor he's not scared of the mission. He's... scared of Deathstroke._

_His mentor looks hesitant for a moment, an emotion rarely displayed by the Bat. "Remember you have 8 hours." He drifts off, obviously fumbling for the correct words. "If you need me before that..."_

_"Got it," The acrobat nods, smiling warmly, though it doesn't quite meet his eyes._

_"Okay," Bruce starts to fire up the bat computer, pulling up schematics and street cameras of Gotham. "Just remember why we do this. It's what we believe. We keep fighting even when we feel weak." With that, the Bat turns his head to the monitor._

_Dick doesn't know why the sinking feeling in his chest expands as he crosses the Bat cave and mounts his bike. This is what he wanted- he asked to run a mission._

_I wanted it to be fun, he thinks to himself a little shakily as he revs the engine of the bike._

It was just this week but it feels like a life time ago but be was so young and callow then.

To Dick's relief, he can still feel the small tracker-monitor hybrid tucked away in his ear. It's the only place that could be considered mostly safe- anywhere on his clothing could be discovered and/or taken away. 

 _"Vitals are normal_ ," Bruce's voice floats into his ear. " _You've been out for less than half an hour._ " Something else is wrapped in Bruce's tone. Something Dick has trouble identifying.

The Boy Wonder weighs the risk of replying to his mentor. Obviously, Bruce knows he's awake - the small piece of tech provided Bruce with the security of monitoring his adoptive son's health and allowed him to see exactly where he was being taken.

After a moment of pondering, the Boy Wonder decides that _yes,_ he can risk verbally acknowledging his mentor. With slight difficulty, he raises his bound hands to the blindfold around his eyes and tugs it down slightly so he can look around the darkened area he's been trapped in. Just as he thought, it's some sort of metal container. Other children are strewn around the floor, some unconscious still and some obviously awake as they cry softly into their blindfolds. A few, Dick notes are awake but are as still as statues awaiting condemnation.

He presses the button in his link and whispers into it, "I'm in some sort of metal container. It seems like it was just transported- doesn't feel like it's moving. Should be taken to Davis' base of operations soon."

_"I'm only a few minutes behind your location. Your coordinates have stayed in the same position for the past three minutes. Your assumption is most likely correct."_

There's a hint of something that sounds suspiciously like pride in the Batman's tone but before Dick can reflect on it a loud clang from outside earns his full attention. A cacophonous screeching sound echoes through the metal room and a shred of light appears from somewhere to Dick's right. It only takes a moment for him to realize the large doors are being slowly opened.

Hurriedly, he pushes his blindfold back up over his eyes (though it's noticeably loose now) before shoving his bound hands back down into his lap.

"Get the Wayne boy," A man, Bert probably, shouts from outside. "We don't want to lose track of him."

Dick stiffens upon hearing those words. He couldn't have possibly have heard that correctly. 

Apparently Bruce doesn't miss that either. _"Get the Wayne boy?!"_

The boy attempts to push down his racing nerves. _It's fine,_ He tells himself as rough hands grab onto his hair and pull him upward. _They figured out who you are. The plan still works. You're just...more of a priority now than Jackson was._

He'd _known_ that the intelligent man, Jones, had been studying him strangely. Of course he'd recognized the ward of Gotham's richest socialite. _Stupid._

His neck is being bent at a rather awkward angle as some thug drags him by his hair toward what's probably the entrance to the container. It hurts like hell but Dick keeps his face impassive, though his kidnappers are aware that he's awake because they're jeering things like: _oh yeah, this hair is fucking pullable_ and  _weren't you a circus freak? How flexible are you, baby boy?_.

To his surprise, after a minute of pain filled dragging, the blindfold is ripped from his face and he's being settled into a chair inside a fairly large warehouse. The lights are much too bright and Dick immediately snaps his eyes closed without really thinking about it. There's a shuffling of footsteps retreating and Dick has the audacity to believe he might have been left alone.

"Look at me boy," A cruel and deep voice growls from in front of him.

Dick freezes, not daring to believe his ears. He hadn't thought he'd hear that voice again in well...he'd hoped it would have been a long time. Fate truly is cruel. He doesn't want to confirm but...tentatively he squints both eyes open.

Standing before him, dressed in orange and black protective armor, is none other than the infamous Deathstroke himself.

A million thoughts race through Dick's mind but he keeps himself together enough to not let any of them show on his face. Dick Grayson wouldn't know who Deathstroke is, even if Robin does. No recognition can be allowed.

_(Still, he can feel the heavy racing of his pulse in his chest and the terrifying way his nerves feel ten times more electrified than they did a second ago.)_

"I will be your jailer for the coming days," Deathstroke says in a "no-bullshit" sort of way as he comes to stand a few inches from Dick's face. "You are a priority shipment for Davis and his men. I imagine you know why. You do anything that displeases me and I break one of your bones. One for each disobedience."

Dick thinks it's okay if his civilian counterpart seems shaken by these words because there's no way he's going to be able to wipe the "deer in a headlights" look from his eyes.

_"Dick, as soon as you're able contact me do it. Tell me if you need this to stop. I've arrived at the compound. We can figure out another way if Deathstroke is too much."_

There's not much time to think about this or how Bruce seems to know that Deathstroke unnerves Dick. Of course he knows that the guy shouldn't be messed around with. But he wanted this assignment didn't he? He wants to prove he can do this by himself and make a name for himself without being under the shadow of the Bat.

So much for a "fun" mission though.

The mercenary observes him with a predators gaze before leaning down and coming to a stop next to his ear. For a second, Dick is paralyzed with the fear that Deathstroke is aware he has a communications link just an inch away from where is mouth is. He nearly breathes a sigh of relief when it turns out the man only wishes to whisper softly, "Just because you're special doesn't mean I can't hurt you. You won't die but, well," A low chuckle rumbles from the man's throat. "You'll be wishing you had. Understand, kid?"

The boy swallows audibly. "Yes."

"Good," Slade straightens back up, hands intertwining behind his back. "Remember what happens if you try anything."

And with that, the merc nods to himself and stalks out of the warehouse, leaving Dick alone with nothing but his racing thoughts. Wherever this place is, it would be unlikely that the traffickers would keep video cameras around to watch the inside of their base. Having that stuff on film would be damning evidence in a court of law if no one could erase it in time. He takes the calculated risk and connects his link to Bruce.

"I'm okay," is the first thing he says though he's not sure if he's trying to convince Bruce or himself. "I don't need out. This is not a big setback and I'm continuing as planned. Over and out."

There's a pause on the other end before Bruce replies, " _Alright_. _Initiate Phase 2 and I'll drop your uniform on the roof."_

Dick scans the area, confirming that no one is paying attention to him. A few "guards" are bringing in children and laying them in a heap in a corner adjacent to him but there's no direct focus on the son of Bruce Wayne. Now is as good a time as any to slip away and get up to the rooftops. Their first mistake was not tying him to the chair. A pretty amateur move, especially for the world's greatest mercenary. Dick could have escaped that too, he's positive, but this just makes his job obscenely easy.

The boy waits a few minutes, observing the pattern the guards come in and out at and more importantly, scans for Deathstroke. After he thinks he's got the system mesmerized, he stands. He does this casually so as not to bring himself any unnecessary attention, and begins walking at a normal pace toward a dimly lit stairwell in the left corner of the warehouse.

It's darker outside than earlier, he notes, looking out the entrance. Perfect cover for the Dynamic Duo.

No one so much as glance is shot Dick's way as he walks, miracle upon miracles.

It's only when he's reached step seven that he hears a confused shout from behind him. 

" **Hey!** Where'd the Wayne kid go?"

Shouts erupt from outside and the sound of boots pounding on pavement alert Dick that it may be time to start running. The metal feels strange on feet without shoes but it's not important.

As he breaks into a sprint, he concentrates on slipping his thumb from the tightly wrapped zip tie that's keeping him restrained. It's easy, Bruce had trained him so that it would be, and as he rounds a corner of the stairwell he pushes the dislocated thumb back into its socket. It hurts a little, but not badly enough for him to slow his pace.

He's very aware that several guards have reached the bottom of the stairwell and are beginning to ascend.

"I'm on my way up," Dick relays to Bruce, panting a little. "Please tell me you're in position."

_"I've located the children. Commence Operation Robin Phase 3: Kick Ass?"_

Dick stifles a smile. This mission may not be going as he'd originally planned but the name is certainly a spot of joy on a slightly depressing track record.

"Give them hell," He confirms.

A new noise echoes from downstairs, this time screams of unconstrained terror and the familiar roar of the Batmobile's engine.

Dick reminds himself to breathe as he reaches the top of the stairwell and he runs a shaking palm through his hair as he glances around for some way to get to the rooftop. More yells, not too far behind, prompt him to move faster. He makes his way down this new corridor as stealthily as he can while still moving quickly and quietly. Soon, he passes a darkened storage room that yields an opening to the outside. It has a window that most certainly will take him to the roof, though it hasn't been open in a long time based on the cobwebs and dust encircling it.

It doesn't take long for him to shove it open and clamber onto the ledge outside. He closes the window with his foot, though it does take some effort and soon after pulls himself up onto the roof. This should throw his captors for at least a few minutes. They're bound to wrongfully assume that Dick Grayson is trying to find somewhere to hide in the building. After all, what else would a rich spoiled brat be doing?

It's chilly in the night air, just as it was when he was kidnapped, and he's eager to abandon the weathered clothing. True to Bruce's word, his uniform lays draped across one of the zigzagging pipes. He slips it on as quickly as possible. Donning his mask is relaxing and his nerves instantly calm under the comfortable feel of his second skin. The lenses power on and the world is suddenly aglow with the blue hue of the mini Batcomputer. Nearly identical with the one in Batman's cowl, though not quite seeing as Dick has less space to work with on account of his mask covering nothing but his eyes.

He pushes his jacket into a tight ball and tucks it away into one of his pouches as well as his civilian shorts.

It's comfortable here in the darkness and even more now that is he no longer shivering from the cold. He's spent most of his nights hiding out in the shadows after all. It's nothing to be afraid of.

An alert appears on screen and his targeting system points itself to his left. Dick turns and slips a pair of escrima sticks from his belt. (Bruce had always told him to get something, maybe a bo staff, that could help him fight at a distance but Dick had always preferred close combat. It was like a dance in a way, except your partner wanted to kill you.)

Of fucking course, the man pulling himself up onto the roof is Deathstroke.

He really can't shake this guy.

"Evening Deathstroke," He forces himself to say smoothly, like he's normal. Like nothing happened.

"Well, if it's not the little bird himself. Back to play, are we?" Deathstroke sounds completely amused, which Dick supposes is a step up from angry. "I thought I heard something up here. You're still so exquisitely _pretty_."

Dick swallows hard and closes his eyes momentarily even though Bruce's warning to _always be aware of your surroundings_ is ringing in his ears. _Inhale. Exhale._ He's not going to be able to help anyone if he doesn't have himself under control. 

 _He's Robin_. He's not scared.

 _"Nearly done dispatching the traffickers,"_  Bruce's voice echoes in his ear. _"What's your status?"_

"A little busy at the moment. Give me a few minutes." Robin hisses back, then turns his gaze on the mercenary. "Get out of my way." His voice is surprisingly put together despite the fact that his mind keeps insidiously flitting back to the last time Deathstroke confronted him as Robin.

"You're potential is wasted under the Bat," Deathstroke ignores Robin's order. "If you served under me I could fulfill all of your needs. Join me and I can transform you into my apprentice."

"You and I have very different definitions of 'needs'," Robin spits, and readies his escrimas at his sides. "I won't ask again. _Move_ or _I'll move you._ "

Again, frustratingly, his opponent is only entertained. "Such bravado. Such futile attempts at sounding brave." The man unsheathes a seven inch knife from a pocket hidden somewhere in his armor. "If it's a lesson you want, then I am more than happy to teach you."

With a shout of anger, Robin rushes forward, fury overtaking all other emotion. Before Dick even really registers it, they've collided and he's whipping his escrima toward an exposed chink of armor at the base of the mercenary's neck only to be parried with a swift kick to his ribs. Robin barely manages to sidestep it and he tries again, this time with his other hand, to aim for the same area. If he could just get a jolt of electricity onto that patch of skin, he might gain the upper hand.

It should be pretty easy.

Except, Deathstroke seems to know exactly what he's thinking because he covers that area with renewed vigor and for all Dick's attempts he can't find a single opening. Dick reassess his evaluation but everything is happening so quickly he can't distract himself with the thought. Eventually, somehow, his attacks are turned on him and Robin's role is no longer as the offensive. It's all he can do to dodge Deathstroke's blade and block every deadly strike with his own weapons. Before he knows it, he's being forced back across the roof, step by excruciating step. Strike after strike. Parry after parry.

He get's punched squarely in the chest, after stupidly using both of his arms to block the blade in an X formation and leaving himself vulnerable below.

Agony fills his lungs, heat and the roar of blood in his ears drown out almost all other noise. He's out of breath, but is determined not to let on.

"Face it, Robin," Slade purrs, not even sounding the tiniest bit winded. Frankly, Dick is insulted. "You can't win. Join me or suffer."

 _"Almost done securing the traffickers and the children."_ Bruce reports.

"Like hell," Robin retorts, then swings his arms up as if he's about to strike before switching directions, a fake, and ducking under Deathstroke's arm. He aims a kick toward his back channeling all his strength into it. Both Deathstroke and the Boy Wonder seem surprised that he managed to get a solid hit.

The merc stumbles forward a little, but not enough to fall over. He turns back around, and even though a mask covers his face, Dick is aware that he's not playing anymore. "You think you can best me? I've face hundreds of men more powerful than you, Robin. You come at me with your sticks, pretending to be a man. It's David and Goliath retold." He leers down at the boy and Robin is acutely aware of his smaller stature in that moment. "You're nothing but a scared child. I'll always be apart of you, a voice whispering into your mind. You cannot erase our history. Tell me, did you inform the Batman about our time together?"

Dick doesn't say anything, but in that action he tells everything.

Deathstroke laughs at this realization, a sound that could only be produced from a heartless sadist. "Once the Bat realizes what you've done, he will discard you."

All of his words, Robin doesn't want to admit, are too close to the truth. He hesitates once again and unwillingly leaves a new opening.

Slade steps closer, though not threateningly. "I will not abandon you. Complete this and cut your ties to the Bat. Be more than another toy in his arsenal. Under my guidance, you would be a prince that all would respect. You would answer to no one but me."

Robin tries to think, tries to stall. What's worse is...the offer is more than a little enticing. It's all he wanted, right? To be free of Bruce's rules and regulations and make a name for himself. No more boring missions. He could finally spread his wings.

 _This is coming from your would-be rapist,_ he reminds himself. "That's a lie," He whispers; callow enough to believe that if he says this out loud, speaks it into the air, then perhaps his traitorous thoughts will vanish.

But it doesn't help. He's shaken, he's undeniably a shell of his former self. What if he really is just a toy that's expired? 

"How long until he realizes your incompetence?" Deathstroke asks, slowly beginning circling the Boy Wonder.

Robin bristles and tenses at that. "I..." He chokes out, knowing that he shouldn't let it get under his skin. But's it's so damned hard...so hard when that's all he's been saying to himself lately. And now, hearing it out loud? It's almost _too much_. "Batman would never leave me."

"That's where you're wrong," Slade answers, tone unforgiving and cold. "Once there's someone better, more capable and less needy, he'll replace you. It's only a matter of time."

_Would Bruce do that to him? He wouldn't give Robin to someone else, right? He knows how much this uniform means to him, the name given to him by his mother. Surely, he wouldn't?_

Dick thinks he should at least raise his escrima sticks back up and give the pretense that he's going to fight back. But he only manages to cast his gaze to the floor, defeat flooding his body. "You're wrong," He repeats again, though this time there's no real fight behind it.

"You're nothing to him." Deathstroke comments and comes to a stop in front of the boy. He places places a strangely gentle hand under Robin's chin and Robin pulls back a little but it doesn't sway the man. His fingers just follow. Alarmingly enough, the mercenary's pupils are blown wide in a bleeding mixture of something that looks suspiciously like hunger and lust. " _But in time you will see that you are everything to me._ "

 The _SHRNK_ of a grappling hook being shot pulls Dick from the murky fog of his mind. He looks up just in time to see Bruce, in all his Batman glory, flying up onto the roof with his cape extended around like a shadow of death. Deathstroke begins to turn, though he's obviously disoriented.

"You're gravely mistaken," Bruce pulls out a tranquilizer dart and fires it toward the exposed part of Deathstroke's neck. The mercenary moves to dodge but Robin acts quickly and grabs his arm to keep him in place. The dart hits true and the mercenary falls heavily to his knees.

"He means _everything_ to me," The Batman growls menacingly as he lands neatly on the roof, legs slightly bent inward. In another swift movement he's standing over the merc and is punching him so hard not even the mask could have kept him from feeling it. "Don't ever even think about coming near him again."

Slade rips the tranq from his veins and throws it violently away from him, but it's too late. The fast acting drug has already taken effect. "I'll never stop. He'll soon realize who he belongs too." It's a dark promise, though a little slurred at the end. 

If Dick had been in a normal mood, he might've said something witty. Instead, he watches, looking numb though an unbridled wave of emotion is twisting in his gut. He feels lost and afraid and... _God,_ he can't believe he's let Slade snake his way into his mind like this.

"B," He starts, as his adoptive father begins restraining Deathstroke. The man's enhanced body won't keep him out for long, Robin is aware so he tries to keep it short. "I'm really sorry."

Bruce stops in his actions to look over at him, lenses flickering in his cowl. "Sorry?"

Dick nods, moistening his lips. "It got out of hand. You didn't have to come up...I should have been down there helping you."

Batman secures the high tech handcuffs around Slade's wrists and then lets the unconscious body drop. "Don't apologize," The Dark Knight sounds uncomfortable. "This mission was a success. You should be proud of  yourself."

Robin blinks, unsure of why he's not being yelled at. "But...I've messed up twice now."

"We're a team," Bruce states firmly and there's no hesitation in that. "There are always obstacles and not everything goes according to plan. You succeeded. You hacked Gencore. You held off Slade Wilson, one of the world's, if not the best, mercenaries. If he'd been on the ground, I wouldn't have been able to help those children. We also could not have gotten to Davis' real base of operations without your sacrifice." Bruce seems hesitant to say something but gets it out, "And you did it all within the time limit."

 _The bet,_ Dick recalls. He'd forgotten about the deadline.

 _"Don't_ say that your sorry." Bruce continues. "You have no reason to be." 

"I'm sor-" Dick starts to say before he cuts himself off sheepishly. 

Batman smiles, a real genuine one, and it looks funny on the Caped Crusader, as he ruffles his son's hair. "Remember when you told me that you'd always need me? Don't ever think that it isn't mutual. Now, let's call Gordon to wrap this up and then go home, hmm? We can let you properly rest your wounds and Agent A informed me that our next mission involves chocolate chip cookies."

As the two make their way to the Batmobile, Dick realizes something. There was no flinch when Bruce reached for him.

Maybe he's not broken after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isn't it funny how I said I wanted to finish this story in a week? (I thought it was going to be 3 chapters in my defense.) LOL. I definitely could have split this one into multiple chapters, but you know, that's silly.
> 
> Anyway, I feel horrible because I wanted to write the final chapter and I didn't know how to give it the ending it really deserves. It's based off that Rick and Morty episode, like I mentioned before and that never really dealt with Morty's trauma. So, here's that final chapter basically half a year later. I gave it that sappy happy ending that I can't resist doing.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! In the future, I'd like to do something like this again. Ideas are greatly appreciated as well as comments and kudos. Those always give me motivation to write more!


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